Sabrage Master

So blunt... so deadly...

I cannot believe that I have not mentioned this career earlier, since it has proved my bread and butter throughout the course of my life. Through all recessions and personal setbacks, there has always been one career that I have not only fallen back on, but practiced with aplomb all through my life. It was taught to me by my Grandpapa, the Grand Snakecatcher of Lervwis County, who learned the trade as a child Hussar in Napoleon’s army. Of course, Grandpapa generally used the skill to open bottles of fine bourbon moonshine, but I have yielded to commercial pressure and since my early teens have only practiced the art on champagne. The art I speak of? Sabrage, of course. The opening of bottles by means of the saber.

Everyone always says the same thing when I walk into a fine dining establishment carrying my official “Sabrage Master d’America” sword. “Take the money!” they generously offer. “Call 911!” I often hear from the kitchen. “Please, my wife– not me!” the men say, thinking perhaps that I charge per head to uncork a bottle. Common folk are so unused to true luxury, they don’t know how to react. Let me walk you all through the process, so that you will not make the same uncultured mistakes the next time you find yourself face to face with a blade.

First of all, I will only charge you standard corking fees for my services. Most other freelance Sabrage Masters will scalp you (sometimes literally, though this was much more common during the Chicago and Newark Sabrage Riots of 1936 and 1937 respectively) with a 500 percent plus service charge, but not I. Secondly, I will ask you to sign a liability waiver on the off chance that shards of flying glass become lodged in your face, eyes, or your esophageal, stomach or intestinal tissues. If you are a particularly saavy customer, you will have your own waivers on hand, and will thoroughly impress your date by pulling them from your man-purse or lady-purse the moment one of us Sabrage Masters walks through the door. Finally, you will discreetly tip me generously prior to my sword-wielding. After all, meditating briefly on the handsome visage of Benjamin Franklin helps greatly in centering my mind and steadying my hand.

Oh, and don’t try this yourself. You will surely waste good champagne.